Variations on the Death (and Life) of Coulson
by Afalstein
Summary: Previously "Fury's Good Eye." Reactions from different members of the MCU on Coulson's "resurrection." NEW:Hawkeye. When the "Into the Light" transmission went out, Barton was in a SHIELD psyche hospital. Then he was in a secret Hydra facility. Now he's in a room with Phil Coulson, who for some reason is protesting that he's not a hallucination.
1. Fury's Good Eye

Melinda May did_ not_ have a good feeling about this meeting. That was fairly normal, she supposed. Probably most desk employees would feel uneasy about being called to the office of not just their boss, but their boss's boss's boss. Especially if they hadn't done anything particularly noteworthy for the past two or three years.

And, of course, if their boss's boss's boss happened to be an international spymaster in charge of the free world's security. May felt privately sure no one _ever_ looked forward to meetings with Fury. The fact that the meeting was in a hospital meant nothing one way or the other, Fury was too much a spy to allow for much consistency or reason to his covert meetings.

The orderlies in the hospital directed her by pre-arranged passwords to a surgery observation booth. When she came in the door, Director Fury stood with his back to her, staring down through the tinted windows at the delicate procedure taking place below, as if his attention was utterly fixed on it. It was the sort of basic tactical error that May would chew a recruit out for, but she knew better with Fury. She could see his single eye tracking her in the glasses reflection. "Agent May." He nodded.

"No." May stood firmly at attention.

Fury turned slowly around. "Excuse me?"

"No, sir." She repeated.

"Perhaps you should explain what you're refusing, Agent May." He leveled an even glare in her direction.

It was odd, May reflected, how even after years of experienced spy work, a single look from Fury could make her shake in her bootss for no damn reason at all. "There's only one possible reason you'd want to personally meet with me, sir. I'm not returning to active duty."

"Really." Fury seemed unimpressed.

"Sir, you know my reasons." May insisted.

"Hell with your reasons, Agent May," snorted Fury. "I know you don't get out much from behind that desk of yours, but maybe you heard about a little toss-up we had in New York recently. Gods on earth? Aliens invading? Nukes above an American city?" He looked at her. "A little past cultists, aren't we?"

"Sir, there's always some disaster threatening the world. Aliens, business moguls, giant green-skinned berzerkers, it's always something." May's voice was level and even. "I did my part for world peace."

"So." Fury raised his eyebrows in mock understanding. "Thirty-seven SHIELD agents KIA, two hundred and sixty three wounded or missing, five billion dollars in associated damages, and a hundred million souls nearly baked in glowing blue ashes, but you think you deserve the right to stay at that cushy desk job of yours."

"Last I checked, your lack of manpower is the personnel department's problem, not mine." May answered.

Fury grunted and turned to face the window again.

"I won't return to active duty." May insisted. "You can't make me."

"I damn well can." Fury snorted.

"I'll blow any mission you send me on. I'll leak details to the press. I'll…"

"Come over here a moment, would you, agent May?" Still not even looking at her, Fury crooked a finger, an imperious gesture that could not be denied.

Burning with anger and frustration, May stepped forward, beside the director, to look down at the surgery taking place below. A small crowd of doctors in scrubs were clustered around a sheeted body.

"You were never much of a medic, were you, agent May?" Fury asked, continuing to study the procedure.

"My skill set largely consisted of breaking people apart, not putting them back together." May answered snidely. She realized Fury was getting around to something, but damned if she was going to play along. "I received basic medical training, that's it."

Still not turning, Fury simply gave a placid nod. "Just enough to keep on breaking things." He mused. "That's what a soldier does, what a weapon does, what nature does. SHIELD's supposed to be all about defense, about preserving things, but that requires just as often tearing them down." A shrug. "The world wants a new kind of army, but it keeps fighting the old wars. Breaking things apart is what we're good at. It's easy. Natural. Putting them back together… that's a bit harder."

"Fascinating, sir." May did not bother to hide her sarcasm.

Fury turned to look at her. "We defended New York, May, but we almost didn't, and Loki's goon squad broke SHIELD apart but good. We lost a lot of people, good people, who we can't readily replace."

"I. Know."

May had turned her head to glare at him. The pompous bastard had the nerve to stand there and just calmly note that 'good people' had died, as if he didn't know she'd already heard about Phil, as if he didn't remember her entire case history with the man or what her psyche evals probably said about him. The manipulating son-of-a-bitch was using Phil's death to try to force her back into SHIELD, and he didn't have the decency to even acknowledge it.

"Putting our forces back together is going to be a real challenge, Agent May." Fury glanced again with studied nonchalance at the surgery. "We're going to need every man on deck."

May, uncomprehending, glanced down at the surgery also.

There, on the table the surgeons had just been clustered around, sat Phil Coulson. He was buttoning up his shirt as if there was nothing wrong, and was joking and laughing with the dark skinned doctor.

May's eyes widened, her feet took an involuntary step forward, her fingers reached out toward the scene and brushed against the glass.

Fury stepped back and passed behind her. "Burn these after you're done with them," he noted, dropping a thick sheaf of files on a nearby table.

May barely even noticed him leave.

* * *

Melinda May strode down the hallways of the Triskelion, her eyes narrowed and her mouth thinned to a hard line. Fists clenched at her sides, she walked in tight, clipped steps, straight through Fury's waiting room and into his office.

"You son of a bitch." She hissed.

Fury blinked placidly up at her. "And a good afternoon to you too, Agent May." He answered. Turning to his guest, he noted: "Mr. Secretary, I'm afraid we'll have to finish this later…"

"No apology necessary, Nick." Alexander Pierce, Secretary of the Global Security Council, answered, raising his hands as he stood. "Not sure what you did to deserve it, but I know better than to come between an angry woman and her prey. Agent May." He nodded at her pleasantly. "You're looking well."

"Sir." May managed, eyes still burning into Fury.

Pierce looked from her, to Fury, and back to her again. "I'll… see myself out, then." He shrugged.

"You absolute bastard." May said again, as the door closed behind Secretary Pierce.

Fury did not even blink. "You destroyed the files?"

"I'd have made you eat them, if I could." May snarled.

"You destroyed the files?"

"Yes, I destroyed them. Dumped them into an incinerator and sprinkled the ashes in the Triskelion fountain." May rolled her eyes. "Your dirty little secret is still safe, you sick maniac."

Fury leaned back in his chair and studied her. "I'm starting to think you don't like me, Agent May."

"How could you do that to him?" The words came bubbling, boiling, exploding out of her. "All he's done for you, for this organization, and you turn him into some sort of… of sick guinea pig?" May's hands clenched and unclenched. "Some dry run for your own immortality project, Fury? What, you're not satisfied with killing off your own men, so you want to bring them back so you can kill them all over again? What you did to him…"

"Is _done_, Agent May." Fury's voice cut like a knife. "I don't recall asking for your approval; regardless of whether you like how I brought back Agent Coulson, the fact remains that I did, and my reasons for doing so are my own." Leaning forward, he folded his hands on his desk and looked at her. "What I'm asking of you is how best to keep him that way."

May stared at him incredulously. "How best to…"

"Did you actually understand what was in that file, or were you just taking notes on what you could yell at me for?" Fury asked. "Coulson's back, fine. His heart's pumping, his lungs are breathing, the synapses in his brain are all firing accordingly. He's alive."

"Against his own protest, yes." May snarled.

"So you did read them." Fury nodded. "That's what you're here for. I want you to silence that protest."

"You want me to…"

"We need Coulson to want to live." Fury explained, standing to his feet. "There's no point in bringing back a man if he just throws himself off a building." He walked around toward the back window and looked out at the ground miles below.

"We have a plan in place." He continued, glancing at her. "Coulson is to be given an assignment—an important assignment."

"What?" May didn't think she'd been struck speechless so many times. "Are you absolutely insane, sir? That man is on a knife's edge, no thanks to you and your…"

"The assignment doesn't actually have to be important." Fury indicated. "Coulson just has to think it is."

"Oh." May quieted. Then her eyes widened. "You're going to try and trick him?"

"We're going to give him a reason to live, and hopefully a distraction from dying," answered Fury. "But Coulson's been a spy, he knows the tricks, so it'd be best if it actually were an important assignment…"

"…but not important enough so he'd actually cause havoc if he broke down." May finished, starting to understand.

A nod. "So." Fury turned to face her. "What would that look like?"

It took May a minute to get what he was asking. "I refuse to be a part of this!" She hissed, practically recoiling.

Shrugging, Fury turned away. "Fine, I'll ask someone else."

May glared. "You utter, absolute, moth-"

"You don't like me. I got it," answered Fury, still looking away from her. "But unless you want someone else determining the convalescing conditions for your resurrected friend, I suggest you get with the program."

May closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "A team and a plane." she said finally. "Put Coulson in charge of a team based out of some sort of plane—preferably one that headquarters can control in case of trouble. That puts him in a controlled environment where any sort of collapse can be dealt with internally."

"We have some decommissioned mobile command centers that should work." Fury nodded, turning around. "Why the team?"

"The team is an automatic safety net." May answered. "Whether they know anything or not, they'll be there to deal with any fallout. A medic, of the best sort you can find, obviously, but probably also someone capable of controlling that... brainwash-bot you used. In case you need to mind-wipe him again." May struggled for a moment. "There should also be a specialist on board." She met Fury's gaze directly. "In case of extreme action."

"I could have figured that out on my own." Fury answered, a spark of irritation in his eye. "I brought you in on this because you know Coulson. Any more specifications?"

May fought to keep herself under control. "It should be a... young team."

There was faint surprise, but also notable approval, on Fury's face. "A Coulson's Angels team? Definitely makes the assignment more enjoyable for him."

"Not... that." May shook her head. "Just young. No senior agents. Coulson's a... paternal man. Having younger agents under his command will make him feel responsible, needed." She hated herself, talking like this.

"That's the kind of insight I'm looking for." Fury's mouth curved, and May hated herself a little more. "But." He raised a finger. "There's gonna be at least one pretty face on that plane."

"Very good, sir."

"Also, I'm thinking this mission needs two specialists, not one."

May frowned. "Sir?" Coulson was good, but he was no specialist. One should be plenty.

"Coulson's going to want you in on this, May." May felt a warm glow rising. "He's been trying to add you to ops for years. Ten bucks says if you're not on the team docket, he'll add you to it. And if he doesn't, I will."

The warm glow vanished. "I won't be a mole."

"Sure you will." Fury shrugged off her refusal. "You can't risk me assigning anyone else."

She hated Fury. Hated, hated, hated, hated, hated...

Fury noted her burning eyes. "You're in too deep to back out now, Agent May. I don't intend to bring in more agents on this than I absolutely have to."

"Given what was in those files, I can understand that."

"You'll be attached to the project... pilot, specialist, janitor, I don't much care." Fury shrugged. "But you'll be responsible with giving me regular and detailed updates on Coulson's status and doings."

There was a short silence.

Fury raised an eyebrow. "Agent May?"

"Yes. Sir."

Satisfied, he continued. "Keep track of his emotional state, his mental faculties, and any unusual symptoms that manifest themselves." He seemed to think, then nodded. "You'll need a private encrypted line... whatever quarters you have would be the best place. You miss an update, HQ will assume control of the plane and fly you to the nearest SHIELD facility."

"Sir." May didn't think she could say much more, but then a question occurred to her. "Why the other specialist?"

"Let's say this matter is too critical to be left up to one agent." Fury answered. "Particularly one with your history. Now." He said, continuing past her furious expression. "Any last points to offer?"

May just simmered in anger for a few moments, then took a step forward. "Let's be clear here, sir, I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for Coulson."

"You can do it for the damn fate of humanity for all I care." Fury shrugged. "Just do it. Anything more?"

"This isn't a snow job. You don't send him on fake missions, whatever 'assignment' you're giving him is actually going to be worthwhile." She demanded. "Coulson's smart, if you try feeding him missions and assignments just to boost his ego, he'll see though it."

"Good thing we're not going through a slow season." Fury answered cooly. "There's rarely any need to fabricate global crises, Agent May, I think I can promise the threats will be legitimate. Is that all?"

Something occured to May. Something Phil had mentioned once. It was silly, crazy, a childish little obsession, but that was the point of this, wasn't it?

"Lola."

For the first time since she'd met him, May saw Fury's face droop in dismay. "Not Stark's old car?!"

"It's a favorite of his." May answered calmly, dancing inside with dark glee. "You know how nostalgic it is. He had pictures of it all over his apartment. He used to say how he'd love to drive it around."

"But Lola... she's... she's..." Fury sighed heavily. "Fine. Lola too, then."

May gave a small, triumphant nod. "Thank you, sir."

Dropping into his chair, Fury gave another sigh. "Lola." He mused, then looked up. "All right. Dismissed. Come up with more specific parameters, forward them to me on secure line 9. I'll pass them on to Coulson."

"Sir." May turned, but the tiny victory had emboldened her, and she hesitated. "Sir..." She said, half-turning back. "Why... did you do this? Why Coulson?"

Fury was eyeing a glass of scotch on his desk. "Honestly, Agent May?" He said. His eye lifted. "It's none of your damn business."


	2. Private Sector

**Private Sector**

Hill knew she was in trouble when she opened the door to her new boss's office and saw the files from the Providence Base op strewn all over the desk. But there wasn't much point in admitting guilt, so she put a brave face on it. "You wanted to see me, Pepper?"

"Today I'm Ms. Potts." Pepper's face was devoid of its normally warm smile as she waved Hill to the seat in front of the desk.

"Very well." Hill nodded. Personally she preferred that anyway—no one had ever called Fury "Nicky" (at least not to his face) and while she couldn't complain about Potts' effectiveness as a leader, at the same time she felt uncomfortable with the informality that seemed to be the rule around Stark Industries. "I take it I'm in trouble?"

"Something like that, yes." Pepper fixed her with an eye. "You know, Tony's not overly fond of SHIELD, and I can't say I'm their biggest fan either. I mean, even before we learned the organization was riddled with Nazis and may have had a hand in killing Tony's father, there was the whole almost-nuking-New-York matter."

"You still hired me." Hill shrugged.

"Yes. We did." Pepper nodded. "And we did so on the understanding that there would no more secrets. That you would not be working an agenda—not running some sort of secret warrior operation or Section H under our noses. That you would trust us and that we would trust you."

"Talbot's been at you about Providence base." Hill held up her hands. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the facility, but honestly I didn't think it was even still active. There's scarcely anything there worth counting, it's a glorified bunker." She sighed. "And yes, I imagine Talbot's mad, but just... leave him to me. I'll work out a deal with him, no need for the lawyers to get involved."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you." Pepper gave her a cold look. "In fact, I'll bet you'd rather Talbot didn't talk to me at all."

Warning bells were going off in Hill's head, but she played it cool—no sense in admitting to something that hadn't been discovered. "Well, if you WANT to talk to him... he's kind of an insensitive jackass..."

"Oh, I'm aware." Pepper nodded. "I've had to endure three hours of his delightful company, listening to him rave about how you knocked out four of his men and helped a known fugitive escape."

"Things got a little out of hand." Hill shrugged. "But as I said, let me deal with him, I should be able to..."

"Among other things," Pepper spoke right over her, "he demanded—not requested, demanded—that we keep you under surveillence, and inform him if you came into contact with a 'Phil Coulson.'" Pepper slapped a photo on the desk. "Even gave us this recent shot of him. Wasn't that nice?"

Hill closed her eyes.

"Answers." Pepper snapped. "Now. And no more lies. I like to trust my employees."

"Technically Fury didn't lie." Hill answered. "Coulson was dead."

"Col. Talbot disagrees." Pepper frowned.

"He was." Hill insisted. "For... forty seconds. He was in a medically induced coma throughout most of the battle of New York, we didn't know if he was going to make it until a day or two later. Fury just thought it would give more punch if they said he was dead."

"Really." Pepper swiveled around her laptop. "Then what's this? I had Jarvis go digging through all that SHIELD data that was released? Coulson was declared dead prior to the battle for New York. Pension, life insurance, everything."

"Right." Hill waved. "Part of the cover. Tony was hacking SHIELD files, we had to make everything look real."

Pepper looked at Hill for a moment, then smiled. "Maria." she said sweetly. "What would you say if I called you a horrible liar?"

"I would ask for your advice on how to improve, Ms. Potts." Hill answered crisply.

"And if I asked you for a straightforward answer on this Coulson business?"

"I would give you a straightforward lie, Ms. Potts."

Pepper gave a long breath through her nose and massaged her temple.

Hill wasn't sure if it was honest pity for her employer or an honest desire to stay employed, but she spoke up. "Look, honestly, even I don't know the whole story behind Phil's... recovery. And what I do know..." She averted her eyes. "...you're better off not knowing."

Pepper's eyes narrowed.

"Just... know that Fury wasn't lying about Phil being dead, and by the time Phil was not dead..." Hill shrugged, "...telling would have brought on too many questions and problems." She gestured at the laptop. "You're probably wondering why there's no record of the living Coulson in those files that Jarvis searched through. Fury buried every record he could find, and ensured that Phil's mission involved no red tape. And no records." Hill shrugged. "That should give you an idea,"

Pepper studied her for a long moment. "That's all I'm going to get from you, isn't it."

"Unless it concerns world peace, Ms. Potts, then yes." Hill waited a moment. "Are you going to fire me?"

"I'd like to." Pepper huffed, glancing back to her desk. "But no. For the moment, you're still too valuable."

"Thank you, Ms. Potts." Hill nodded. She hesitated a moment longer. "Are you... going to tell Tony?"

Pepper didn't answer right away. "I... I don't know." She sighed. "Just... get out of my office."

Hill gave a nod. "Of course." She walked out and closed the door. Then she straightened her suit and walked back to her office with clipped, brisk, steps.

Pepper wouldn't tell Tony. Hill had seen it in her eyes. Pepper just wasn't willing to accept that yet. Both she and Tony were new to the world of global security, new to the world of threats, lies, and secrets. They were just starting to learn what that could mean.

But that's what she was around for, wasn't it?

She just hoped Pepper never discovered that Fury was still alive too.

* * *

**A/N:** I decided to expand this story. Originally this Hill vignette was going to be a separate story, but with the Recruitment Drive series I'm doing right now, I also wanted to do a bit with Hawkeye and Black Widow (who will be coming later), and decided to expand this into its own one-shot series.

It strikes me as very unlikely that Tony would not sift through all the info Widow released on the internet, and equally unlikely that some mention of Coulson would not be in there SOMEWHERE. So I tried to explain how that might work.

But even outside of that, it's incredibly unlikely that Talbot would fail to mention Coulson to one of Hill's new superiors. And since, if Coulson ever shows up again in the movies (pleasepleaseplease), Tony is going to have to be VERY shocked, it makes sense that that would be Pepper. Who, honestly, would probably take it worse than Tony.

Anyway. Enjoy! The next "Recruitment Drive" installment should be out soon, and also another chapter of Mysterious Mynds (I'm between classes right now, so I have lots of spare time).


	3. Bird-Brain

**Bird-Brain**

Barton wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here. "Come back when you're better." Fury had said, and Barton had taken that to mean: "When I can be sure you're not going to shoot up the helicarrier." or at the very least: "When you stop mumbling and staring off into space and hearing little blue whisperings in your skull."

Getting used as a god's personal pit bull did things to your mind. Barton had come out of the arrangement better than Selvig—Clint felt personally sure that had something to do with the explosive arrow he'd tagged Loki with—but he still felt it. Ideas, premonitions, instincts tugging at the folds of your brain. He was no good on missions anymore; it was just too hard to concentrate on lining up a shot when you could feel the stars watching you.

So he'd gone into rehab, or the SHIELD equivalent of it. It didn't do much good. The doctors didn't even have access to most of his case history—that was classified. The other people in therapy had either been terrified or suspicious of him. Nat and Steve came by occassionally, but not often.

One time, Clint talked to Nat about his doctor. "He just asks some very strange questions." He'd said. "Like about how I felt when I got poked with the sceptre, if I noticed any increased effectiveness or any new powers..."

"They're trying to help you, Clint." Nat had told him.

"Seems like they should be trying to get my mind off that whole incident then, not making me relive it constantly." Clint had rubbed a hand over his face. "Nat, do you know... is SHIELD studying the sceptre? Is that why they're asking me all this? Are they trying to defend against it or... or replicate it?'

"I don't know what happened to the scepter." Nat had shaken her head. "But I'll talk to Fury about it, see if he can get your psychiatrist to focus on something more productive."

The questions had stopped, but in their place had come new CAT scans, MRI's, and all sorts of medical tests. They were irritating and inconclusive, but Clint went along with them all the same.

Then Fury died.

The next day, Clint'd awoken, chained to a bed in a concrete room somewhere, a new doctor leaning over him with glittering eyes.

It was Hydra. It'd always been Hydra. They were VERY interested in what the scepter had done to him, and now that they no longer had to worry about Fury, they were going to start all the fun tests that they'd REALLY been wanting to get to.

Barton had been tortured before, by professionals, but Hydra was legendary when it came to this sort of thing. Fortunately the Hydra scientists weren't particularly interested in pain, just in information, and even more fortunately, they were careful about permanently damaging his psyche, in case it might affect the information they were after.

The weeks rolled by in a haze of pain and psychotropic truth-serums. Barton was moved from bed to chair to test chamber. Sometimes there was a doctor, sometimes there were other prisoners, sometimes there was James Cagney or Richard Nixon. The procedures grew more and more extreme, and the results less and less useful, and the hallucinations more and more bizzare.

Time passed, and Barton could see, even through the film of blurry green insects, that the doctors were disappointed, and getting frustrated. He wondered, distantly, if they'd finally had enough, if this would finally be the end, and he could stop seeing talking stars and singing toadstools everywhere. As the filmy insects parted to release cotton candy clouds of Margaret Thatcher and Phil Coulson, Barton closed his eyes and drifted into blessed oblivion...

* * *

The bed felt curiously soft. Softer then usual. And his hands were... free?

Barton's eyes shot open. This was his chance! At long last, a chance to escape, to...

"Hey Clint."

Phil Coulson was sitting in a chair by his bed.

Clint sat up, looked at him, then slowly got out of bed.

"What are you doing?" Coulson asked, as he started gathering the sheets into his arms. "Wait, are you going to tear those? Please don't, we only have limited amount of..."

_riiiiipppp!_

Coulson winced. "Why did you do that?"

"I'm going to tie the strips together and make a rope." Barton answered, busily ripping the sheet. "Then I'm going to make that into a noose or some kind of weapon, and choke the first guard to come in that door."

Coulson's gaze grew disturbed. "Please don't."

Barton shot him an odd look. "Why wouldn't I? This is escapology 101, Phil. You taught all the rookies how to strangle their captors with bedsheets."

"No, no, please don't, because you're not captured." Coulson stood up, hands raised, trying to persuade him back into bed. "Look, you're not in cuffs, I'm not in cuffs, no one's captured here, okay?"

"I'm out of cuffs because someone made a mistake, and you're out of cuffs because you're a hallucination."

Coulson's face scrunched in disbelief. "What? No I'm not!"

"See, that's exactly what a hallucination would say." Clint took up position by the door, silk noose in hand.

"Okay, I'm seriously not a hallucination. I can't begin to stress how much not-a-halllucination I am." Coulson argued.

"Yeah? Prove it?" Clint arched an eyebrow.

Coulson punched him in the eye.

* * *

"So, you're not a hallucination." Clint, now cuffed to the bed again (courtesy of a very grim-looking black man and asian woman) regarded the bruised and battered figure sitting before him. "But you're also not dead."

Coulson—sporting two black eyes, a bruised jaw, and possibly a broken arm—smiled back. "Not for lack of trying."

Clint winced. "Sorry about that. Force of habit. It's been... it's been building for a while."

"I got a good one in on you." Coulson shrugged. "That'll be something to remember."

Barton snorted and leaned back. "Should've figured. Typical of Fury. Faked your death to pull the Avengers together, right? Might've told me. It would have made therapy easier."

"Not... quite that simple." Coulson's gaze was curiously troubled. "I was pretty dead for a while. Just... didn't stay that way."

Barton's brow furrowed. Then he shook his head. "I don't even want to know."

"That's probably just as well," nodded Coulson, looking a little relieved.

"So." Barton stared at the floor. "SHIELD and Hydra, huh?"

"Yep." Coulson nodded. "I suppose I and the team could be Hydra too..."

"You?" Barton snorted. "Phil, I'm more Hydra than you are. You're not even that good a liar."

"Thanks, I guess." Coulson frowned.

Barton stretched his arms up and back. "Kinda surprised the WSC didn't shut us down after the whole Hydra reveal." He mused, glancing around the room.

"They... did, actually." Coulson admitted. "Shut us down. Technically you and I are... sort of wanted fugitives right now."

"Really?" Barton gave a little swear. "Shit. This is Latveria all over again."

"And the rest of SHIELD."

"Great. Even better." Barton passed a hand over his eyes. "Fury got a plan?"

"Fury's dead." Coulson smiled at the look Barton sent him and shrugged. "Well... officially, anyway. He's stepped down from SHIELD."

"Really?" Barton blinked. "Huh. Never thought I'd hear that." Another blink. "Wait, so who's in charge?"

Coulson gave a sheepish little grin.

"Wow. Director Coulson, huh?"

"Please don't say that." Coulson glanced around nervously. "I feel like I'm a school principal or something."

"Heh." Barton chuckled. Swinging his legs off the bed, he stood on the floor. "All right, 'director.'" He said. "What's the plan?"

* * *

**A/N:** I'm not so happy with this chapter, but it works. Among other things, it sets up the next chapter with Black Widow, which I have much more concrete ideas.

Basically my headcanon for why Hawkeye wasn't in Cap2 is that Hawkeye, like Selvig, is slightly unhinged from the whole Loki experience, and so has been removed from active duty. As such, he's too tempting a target for Hydra to pass up. But given that Widow is off soul-searching and Cap is looking up his old war buddy, looks like it's up to the only person still worried about defending the world to save him.

Technically Coulson's ressurrection is the sort of the thing that should be kept from all the Avengers, including Widow and Hawkeye, but they're the sort that would probably take in stride better than the others. Sure, they might still fake surprise when the Avengers as a group find it out, but honestly, it'd be hard to keep from people that deep in SHIELD.


End file.
